Eye of the Storm - Star Wars Classic
by Marla Fair
Summary: Young Luke Skywalker has just been rescued from Bespin. It seems all is well until he collapses. As Princess Leia wonders if he will live, Luke's spirit walks in another world where he will have an encounter that will leave him changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

**STAR WARS - EYE OF THE STORM**

 **I**

There was nothing left to fight for. Nothing to believe in. His body was battered. His spirit exhausted and all but consumed. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the sheltering cocoon of the **Falcon's** medical bunk, knowing he would recover, but praying for oblivion.

And then someone whispered his name.

His head came up, neck muscles straining. "Father?" he whispered, the sound of it foreign on his tongue.

With words weighty and sonorous the black void entreated, " _Luke, son…come to me. It is your_ _ **destiny."**_

Luke Skywalker gritted his teeth and took a deep calming breath, seeking to draw strength from the spirit river that ran through his veins, the waters of which the old hermit Ben Kenobi had taught him to tap. But as he immersed himself, seeking that sweet communion, a malevolent shadow rose beneath him, tainting the once pure flow. It swirled about him, desirous, voracious, until it coalesced into the forbidding form of a single black glove that sought to ensnare and enforld him.

Vader.

 **Father.**

Heartsick, Luke leaned into the ship as it lurched and tilted, and rolled free of the stationary bunk. Without acknowledging the loss, he cradled the seared stump of his right arm in the crook of his left, and ignoring the frantic signals the severed nerve endings were sending to his brain, and went to the cockpit. Leia glanced at him as he entered, a smile momentarily erasing the fear etched into every inch of her patrician features. The big Wookiee Chewbacca brushed his shoulder in affection and the dark-skinned man who sat in Han's seat nodded a brief greeting before turning back to the matter at hand.

Virtually ignored, he sank wearily into one of the passenger seats behind the pilot's station and let his eyelids close, shutting out the ordered chaos that eddied and churned about him. He could **feel** the others fear. The hyperdrive had failed again. They believed they were going to die.

A small sigh escaped his trembling lips. If only it could be that easy. "Ben," he murmured as he sensed Artoo-Detoo's desperate bid and felt the stars begin to slide, "why didn't you _**tell**_ me?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Princess Leia Organa pressed sweat-soaked strands of chestnut hair away from large brown eyes and blew out a breath. The old bucket of bolts had done it again, survived and seen them through when any other far more space-worthy vessel would have had the good grace to be blown into a billion infinitesimal pieces. They were alive. As she heard Lando whoop with unbridled joy, she rose from the undignified position she occupied on the floor and turned to seek the bright blue eyes of the young man who had rescued her from the late **Death Star**. She trusted she would find in them the echo of her own triumph. The unalterable certainty that life, truth and justice would win out no matter what the forces of evil threw against them. Instead she found his seat empty. Shifting slightly, she spied a limp form near its base, the blunted tip of its truncated arm thrust out like a grotesque signpost pointing toward disaster.

He wasn't breathing.

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Dissipated spirits surrounded him troubling his dreams.

He could sense them circling, shifting, even as his thoughts brushed them, until they were no more than a puff of breath blown through frost-bitten lips. Blue eyes snapped open on a twilight world, dusky and pale, illuminated solely by a feeble wash of red-gold light that glistened deceptively upon slick walls of green ice. Above his head stalactites hung like jagged teeth, their frosty points sparkling expectantly. Luke shivered and closed his eyes again. He could feel the cold cutting through his Alliance-issued uniform and knew the **Falcon** and his friends were very far away- though he couldn't remember how they had become separated. Taking a deep breath, he cast his mind forward searching for signs of life. As expected a few dull-witted creatures brushed the edge of his Force-perceptions, but otherwise he was alone. Reassured, he placed his hands on either side of his narrow hips and pushed off the cavern floor, only to unexpectedly list to the right. Something was wrong, but before he could put a name to it, the painfully sensitive stump of his right arm struck the cold unyielding ground. Nauseated, he fell back panting, his pulse quickening as a sick sensation gripped his stomach bringing bile to his mouth. It was true. _**It was all true.**_ In a flood of rage and despair, dark emotions cascaded over him like rain-swollen torrents tumbling over the jagged rocks of memory.

He had deserted Yoda. Ben had lied to him.

Darth Vader was his _**father**_.

He rolled over and fought the urge to retch. Distraught, he lay his fevered forehead upon the cool floor and sought to gather strength. So Ben had lied about Vader... _**So what?**_ He had still taught him so much... Given him the Force as an ally... And yet, whom did it serve? Ben utilized the Force for good, but Vader called upon it as well. If it obeyed the Dark Lord of Sith, how could it not be tainted? And if Vader was his father, how could **he** not be as well?

With supreme effort he derailed that train of thought and focused on finding first his knees and then his feet. The action left him gasping for breath but determined. His path was clear. He had been separated from the others: He had to find his way back. It would matter little **who** his father was or **what** Ben had neglected to tell him if he died here lost and alone. Stumbling forward, he hugged his damaged right hand against his feverish form and stubbornly refused to call upon the questionable power of the Force to augment his waning strength. Soon, it was all he could do to physically lift one foot and place it in front of the other. As fatigue and shock threatened to overwhelm him and his body began to shake, words echoed unbidden in his mind. _**"If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."**_ He could see Yoda, the diminutive Jedi Master he had forsaken, his wizened face downcast and without hope. _**"Much anger in him, like his father."**_ Luke sighed and struggled to take another step. Like his father...

 _ **Like Vader.**_

He shook sweat-soaked hair and tried without success to push away the image of his own likeness framed by Vader's black visor. The ancient Jedi Master claimed he had failed the test in the cave. _**But had he failed?**_ Or had he merely glimpsed the future? Was it true what they said? _**Like Father like son?**_

He shivered uncontrollably wishing he could forget. He had been walking for several hours in a southerly direction, seeking the origin of the pale light that washed the walls a muted rose, and he was weary. _**Very**_ weary. And cold. _**Really**_ cold. His breath shone like small white clouds against the cavern's coppery skin and his extremities had long since stopped burning -which he knew was **not** a good sign. Dazed, he stumbled again and realized he was beginning to lose consciousness. As terror struck him, his good hand shot out for balance making contact with the wall of silent scintillating ice. Without warning, a sense of evil flowed through him, causing him to recoil as though struck. A presence, immeasurably old and impossibly strong with the dark side of the Force had awakened at his touch. Gasping, he backed away from the glistening surface, as deep within its heart an ebon shadow stirred. His young blood froze as he **felt** it recognize him and begin to move willfully toward him. Cloaked in darkness, it beckoned him, utilizing his inherent connection to the Force as a channel. Swallowing hard, he placed his right hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. The elegant weapon pulsed and seemed to sigh with satisfaction as he brought it to life, wielding it like a talisman.

Within its crystalline prison the apparition grew ever more substantial as it drew closer, and with this solidarity came a greater sense of urgency. Awkward, unsure of his prowess, Luke employed his left hand to weave a web of light before him intended to protect his fragile soul. Somehow he **knew** the creature must not touch him. One touch would mean the end of everything. **Surrender. Death.**. Horrified, he planted his feet a meter apart and lifted the Jedi weapon, meaning to slice through the glassine curtain and strike at its black heart. Instead, upon contact, the wall shattered like a silvered-sheet, sending an hundred-thousand glittering shards winging through the air like a swarm of enraged insects. As Luke dropped the lightsaber and flung his arms before his face, a soul-searing scream assailed his ears and a slender grey hand stretched forth to clutch his garments. Desperate, it begged him to join it within the inky blackness. Sickened, he slapped the grasping fingers aside . Abruptly they vanished, and for a brief moment he thought he had won. Then he heard a sound like the enraged bellow of a Rancor, and he knew the battle was not yet begun. All of a sudden, a maelstrom of malevolent intent struck him, brutally blasting the air from his lungs. Stunned, he stumbled and fell.

Lost in the false night he heard his lightsaber fizzle as though snuffed, and seconds later black ice filled his veins, paralyzing him.

 **She had won.** __

 _ **ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**_

Leia shouted, "I don't know! If I knew, don't you think I'd do something about it!" She glanced away from Threepio's expressionless golden face to Luke's pale features and then at the dismal readings on the diagnostic panel above him. All lines were flat. Desperate, she balled her fists, pressed her eyes closed, and reached for whatever tenuous fiber had bound them together before, when he had called to her as he hung helpless beneath the cloud city of Bespin. She had heard _**him**_ then. Maybe , just _**maybe**_ he could hear her now.

"Luke?" she projected, breathing deeply and trying to remain calm. "Luke, _**hear**_ me."

She waited a moment and then peeked through heavy black lashes. Nothing had changed. Either she wasn't strong enough or...he was already beyond her reach _**and**_ the Force's. Discouraged, she sighed and laid her hand atop his cold one, fighting a wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. "Damn it, Luke, I've already lost-" Her husky voice choked as she fought back tears, "I've lost Han. I _**won't**_ lose you as well!" Half-frantic, she glanced about the sterile cabin looking for a miracle and encountered the coal black eyes of Han's co-pilot and friend Chewbacca. He was watching her intently, his expressive face echoing her own pain and loss.

"Chewie?"

He shook his chestnut head and moved forward with a soft growl to strike the side of the instrumentation panel, obviously hoping this piece of machinery ~like most on the **Falcon** ~ was malfunctioning. No such luck. The lines remained as flat as an Alderaanian paper bug.

Grief-stricken, the rebel princess lowered her head to her friend's motionless chest and sobbed.

"We've lost him."

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For a long time Luke lay unmoving, his pulse ringing steadily but slowly through his veins like the persistent call of a trapped miner refusing to surrender to the icy hand of fate. He had awakened, shivering and sweat-soaked. Aware that his body had passed through a crisis and been weakened by the experience. Exhausted, he lay his head back upon the rocky surface and blew out a breath. _**What had happened?**_ Had he defied Uncle Owen and left the compound late in the night only to fall by the wayside somewhere no one could find him? The scent of sickness lingered, assailing his nostrils. Had he been attacked? Perhaps by one of the Sand People? Attacked and left for dead? There **had** been a fight. A remnant of the memory persisted. But as soon as he attempted to wrap his hands about it, it evaporated like moisture on a sun-soaked stone. All that was left was the faint echo of the cry that had brought him back from wherever shock and fever had tried to take him. The sound of a woman's voice, plaintive and desperate...

Hearing her call, he could not help but answer and reach towards life.

His curiosity aroused, he tried to rise but moaned softly as his stiffened muscles protested. Unexpectedly a hand reached out and lay firmly across his chest, pinning him down. Suddenly, he was aware of a cool presence pressed against his warm flesh, a soft thigh atop his own rigid one, and an ample chest melded to the curve of his aching back. He attempted to turn his head to identify the one who restrained him, but found he could not. His waning energies depleted, he dropped back to the hard earth with a groan and shivered ferociously. The fever had not been beaten, only broken.

"Hush," a low voice whispered, wind whistling through broad pipes to produce a reedy tone. "You have been Dream-Treading. Rest now. The road ahead is long and must be traveled until its end. Sleep now, little one. Sleep and draw power from the Inspirer's touch." Cool lips pressed lightly the skin at the nape of his neck and he recognized the one who had called him back.

Then he slept.

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Leia tasted blood and grinned. Her lower lip might have been wounded, but her heart soared. Above her head, the medical monitor chirruped and bleeped and nearby Chewbacca roared. See-Threepio, the prim and proper droid Luke had inherited in a very round about manner, clapped his golden hand upon the royal-blue dome of his small mechanical companion, Artoo-Detoo, and chided him. "There, you see. Must I always remind you humans are quite resourceful? The princess has managed to save Master Luke!"

The dark-haired beauty peeled her eyes from the display for the first time since she had made the decision to put the young Jedi on complete life-support. She snorted. "Far from it, Threepio, I've only managed to postpone what is most likely inevitable." She reached out and laid her hand on her friend's pale forehead. His flesh was clammy and a faint blue tinge lingered near his slightly parted lips. She mirrored Chewbacca's frown and asked quietly, "Does the **Falcon** have any medi-cocoons? We're going to need one to keep him stabilized."

The Wookiee issued a series of hollow barks she took for a yes. This _**was**_ Han Solo's ship...how could they afford to be without one? Or better yet, a _**fleet**_ of them.

"Threepio, you go with Chewie. Get one ready." She glanced at the young man's life signs. They were steady, but consistently low. "Artoo, you and I should go back to-"

"Leia?" Lando Calrissian, the handsome smuggler who had been Han Solo's friend in a former existence -and his betrayer in this one- leaned through the hatch to inform her, "I've contacted the Fleet. They're expecting us." He took one look at her somber face and noticing the still form on the medical bunk asked sharply, "The kid? He isn't-"

Setting aside the horrific memory of Han in the carbon-freeze chamber, she shook her head and then ran a hand over her face, attempting to dislodge the fatigue that clung there like a voracious Mynock. "No, _**he's**_ alive. For now. Reestablish contact and request Two-OneBee, he knows Luke's history. Let's get back up front. Artoo, you come with me-"

Already on the move, it took Leia a second or two to realize the little droid had remained at Luke's side, daring to defy her direct command. She planted her hands on her hips and started to snap at the blue and white machine, but unexpectedly checked herself as a series of plaintive bleeps and toots issued from deep within it. Worn by one unendurable loss piled upon last, she had almost failed to recognize another's agony. Deeply touched, as well as a bit surprised by the little droid's loyalty, she lifted her hands and held them up in a gesture of surrender. "All right, Artoo, you win. You can stay here." She turned and started to follow Lando as he disappeared through the hatch that led to the **Falcon's** tiny cockpit, but found she couldn't. Something forced her to linger for one final look. Luke's boyish face was awash in the amber light of the instrument panel. One hand lay upon his chest, the stump of the other encapsulated in a medical device that fed much needed fluids to his dehydrated body. His Jedi weapon lay formally at his side. And at his feet a blue and white watchdog stood silent guard patiently waiting for the familiar sound of his Master's voice.

She shivered and whispered prayerfully, not knowing to whom she spoke. "Please, send him back."

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Luke awoke sometime later swathed in animal pelts and sweating like an Ugnaught. A small fire blazed near his bare feet, radiating warmth, and the scent of something delicious cooking made him salivate. He maneuvered into a sitting position, noting as he did that his clothing had been removed. Beneath the grey-white furs he was naked as a babe. An oily substance, odorless and colorless, coated every inch of his skin. He ran his fingers along it, noting it was slightly warm to the touch and made his flesh appear opalescent. It put him in mind of the residue left after immersion in a Bacta Tank. Shaking away that unpleasant memory he stood, intending to search for something more suitable to drape across his bare frame, but instead froze, unexpectedly overwhelmed by his surroundings.

Waves frozen in a translucent sea highlighted the cavern walls. The creation of time and pressure, the dense crystalline surface undulated to a height of fifty or sixty feet and then vanished into a lapis lazuli sky. He took a step toward it and watched as the fire's light kaleidoscoped, reflecting a myriad of shades that resolved into an azure wash as all colors but the deepest of blues were absorbed. It's beauty was unsettling. He hesitated a moment and then took another step, gingerly, tentatively, as though he feared all that brilliant blue glass might shatter if he moved too quickly. A distorted reflection mimicked his actions, but that was all. Moments later, emboldened, he searched the cave until he found a pile of grey clothes that seemed to be his size. It turned out to be a regulation flight-suit, though he found he was unfamiliar with the design. Still, grateful for anything more familiar than animal pelts, he pulled the form-fitting pants over his boyish form and smiled sheepishly.

"Aunt Beru'll skin me alive if I come home wearing someone else's clothes."

"Your Aunt will not see you as you are. Have no fear."

Luke pivoted sharply only to be confronted by another vision, thoroughly as captivating and enthralling as the frozen ribbon of glass. A statuesque woman, full bodied and fully five or six fingers taller than him, stood silhouetted against the crystalline barrier. Waist-length hair as black as jet billowed about her darkened visage, casting fantastic shadows on the floor. She held her head high and waited in silence while he hastily donned the borrowed shirt and fumbled with its fastenings.

"You are better now." It was a statement, **not** a question.

"Yes, thank you," was all he could think of to say. Then, stumbling for the right words, he added, "How did I...? Did **you** bring me here…rescue me?"

She moved away from the scintillating flow and approached him slowly. As the muted light

caressed her silvery flesh, a soft sheen showed him she too wore the oily balm. Grey as gun-metal, her dark skin shone like polished stone. Wide-set almond eyes glistened like black pearls as they regarded him with amusement. If one of the smoky stalactites which lined the vaulted ceiling had descended, been granted female form and had life breathed into it, it would have looked like this. Clothed only in the slimmest of sarongs, she seemed a veritable goddess.

"Yes," she answered, with the faintest hint of an accent unknown to his ears. "Your thanks I do not need. Though there is something else I want."

Luke frowned as she casually fingered his collar. Her nearness made him uncomfortable, though he didn't know why. "W-what?" he stammered.

A savage smile lit her beautiful face. "Another fastening there is."

As she passed by him to squat like a savage before the fire, he glanced to where her fingers had lingered. One of the fastenings was out of sequence. Like a little kid he blushed and hurriedly corrected his mistake.

After a moment she quietly instructed, "Sit. Eat."

His stomach growled in reply. "Thanks. I guess I **am** hungry."

She gestured with a hand that flashed quicksilver. "Good. Come then, eat. Gather strength for the task ahead."

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Twenty minutes later Luke pretended to linger over the last bite of stew, passing a hard lump of bread around the sides of a rough-hewn stone bowl. In truth, he was studying his mysterious savior as she lingered spell-bound before the fire. Her black hair was in fact shot through with silver so that it appeared veined like the finest marble. One prominent stripe ran from the edge of her left temple straight across her crown and down the right side of her waist-length tresses. Her lips were full and the deep red of Corellian blood-stripes. Above them, a knife-straight nose bridge separated eyes like obsidian disks, deep-set and heavily lidded. Lush lashes, velvet black, brushed high-boned cheeks. Once or twice as he watched, an ebon lock troubled her eyes. Involuntarily, she would chase it away with a shimmering hand tipped with smartly manicured claws, and then return with fierce determination to her study of the ebbing flames. Luke shifted at last and set the bowl down.

Immediately she looked up.

"You eat like an Ice Creature with an empty larder. Long you have been without food and nourishment." Luke noted again the unnerving habit she had of making statements instead of asking questions, as though she already _**knew**_ the answers. "It is enough."

He didn't know if a response was expected or even required, but he answered anyway. "I don't know about ice creatures, but I was hungry as a Bantha. Thank you again." He stood and turned to survey the crystalline wall that separated them from the outside. It extended far beyond his range of vision to the east and west and at least seventy-five feet into the air, arching over their heads like half of a gigantic rib-cage. A rosy glow glimpsed through its azure depths was all that indicated the world beyond. Luke ran greased hands through dark blond locks and turned to face her, only to find _**her**_ eyes were already on him. Blushing, he suggested, "Now if you could just point me in the right direction, I'd like to head for home. I'm **totally** lost. I can't recall ever seeing anything like this on Tatooine..."

She sniffed and passed her hand slowly and deliberately through the flames, watching as the opalescent balm sizzled in its heat. "That is because you are no longer on Tatooine."

He darted forward to grasp her arm and haul her back, but hesitated as he saw her withdraw her hand from the flames unscathed. A moment later, her words sunk in. "What? What do you mean I'm **not** on Tatooine?" He distinctly remembered heading out into the desert in pursuit of the droid his Uncle had just purchased from the Jawas. It had claimed it belonged to old Ben Kenobi, but he had never found it _**or**_ the old man it sought. Somehow, he _**must**_ have gotten lost along the way.

The woman rose with effortless grace and seemed to glide to his side. Once again, her close proximity disturbed him. Her scent was strong, musky, reminiscent of exotic spices and heady wines. It disturbed him on some deep unspoken level. She met his eyes and he felt her hand upon him, even though she hadn't moved. "You are no longer on Tatooine. You left there long ago. You are no longer a simple farm boy, the nephew of an unimportant moisture farmer. You have fought many battles between that moment and this. There are scars," she lifted her dark hand and brushed his right cheek, tracing one of several narrow valleys that ran from just below his left eye to his jawline with fingers carbon smooth, "on your face and on your soul."

Luke frowned but found he could not pull away as her hand slipped inside his shirt, its cool pressure resting above his heart. Without warning images exploded within his mind's eye, and he saw a cold barren world and himself astride a curious beast, canvassing the frozen wastes. Suddenly a savage creature, a tidal wave of white fur, teeth, and claws, struck him down, rending the tender flesh of his cheek. It clutched his ankle and bore him away toward certain death. Then everything went black. He gasped and drew away, trembling.

She withdrew her hand and sighed. "You do not remember all. That is as must be. For now, know only that you are not on your planet, but mine.

"Welcome to Hoth."


	2. Chapter 2

II

"Hoth?" Luke's bright blue eyes widened as he glanced about. The crystalline wall wasn't glass, but _**ice**_! He must have been blind to have missed it. Still, ice on Tatooine didn't seem as far-fetched as... "Another _**planet**_?"

She nodded, pausing to extract something from the heart of the fire. Immediately the flames hissed and died. In her silver hand a crystal, amber and multi-faceted, glimmered and pulsed as though alive. She pocketed it quickly with the words, "We will have need of this later," and only then did he notice the curious device which hung suspended from her braided belt. It looked like a sword without a blade.

"What is that?" he asked pointing to it.

She glanced down and then answered, deliberately misunderstanding him, "A way to bring heat where there is none. Now, finish dressing. We must go."

Luke spread his hands wide and shook his aching head. "Whoa, now. Wait a minute. I'm grateful you rescued me, but who said I was going anywhere with you? Just point me in the direction of the nearest settlement and I'll find my own-"

She pivoted sharply and fixed him with her dark stare. "Even if that was permitted, you would not make it one mile. It would be suicide." She gestured wide, encompassing the great ribboned wall and the dark tunnels beyond. "Beyond these walls there is nothing but ice and wind. The temperatures are extreme even for my kind. Your puny pink flesh would freeze before you knew it. If not for the gift of _the Protector_ , you would be frozen even now." Her tone brooked no dissension, but that meant little to Luke. He was used to arguing with his uncle, as mule-headed a task-master as you could find.

"What _Protector_? Lady, you must think I'd make a deal with the Jawas without first inspecting the merchandise." He hastily fitted grey boots to his feet and threw a light-weight jacket over his sleeveless shirt. "Even if there is snow and ice out there ~ _ **if**_ ~ I can take care of my~"

The dark woman sighed and reached toward her belt. Her finely tapered fingers clutched the strange device at her side and found a recessed jewel near the top of the handle. She closed her eyes and muttered a few indecipherable words before concluding with, "I see you must be shown..."

Luke waited, not knowing what to expect. At first it seemed as though nothing had happened, but then he noticed his skin was no longer glistening, but was instead a dull greyish-blue the color of gun-metal. Seconds later he was seized by a bone-numbing cold that penetrated his body and gripped his heart, all but stopping it. Overcome, he collapsed to the floor with a whimper, "Pl-please..."

Moments later, a welcome tingling told him _The Protector_ -whatever it was- had been reactivated. He found his knees and lifted his head and regarded the silvery woman with a new respect tinged with fear. Her stern gaze bid him remember the power she held over him. From where he rested on the floor, he asked uncertainly, "What do you want of me?"

She fingered the handgrip at her hip and answered matter-of-factly, "Only that which is my due. I must return to the settlement that until of late, I have called home. Someone is killing my people. I seek information which will help me free them from this curse. You will help me do this." She paused when she saw his startled look and then added soberly, "I have _**foreseen**_ it."

Luke swallowed and then replied, tentatively, "And what if I refuse? Assuming, of course, that you won't simply turn off your _'Protector'_ and let me freeze like a piece of meat." He paused, aware that was quite an assumption. "What if I choose not to help you?"

She stepped closer to him and the sight, the scent, the very presence of her was intoxicating. "You have no choice, little one," she whispered seductively, "you are _**mine**_."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Yours?" he repeated incredulous, "and what does _**that**_ mean?"

She inched forward to press her wine-drenched lips against his. He was startled by the way her being seemed to invade him, consuming his will. As her touch lingered, he felt his body temperature rise until sweat broke out on his exposed skin. Breaking away abruptly, she laughed. "It means _**'you are mine'.**_ When I chose to save you, you became bonded to me. While you lay dying, our souls passed through _the Eye_ together. Moreover, you have taken my food and partaken of it. I am now responsible for you until such a time as you perform a like service." She stepped away from him and placed her finely chiseled hands on lusciously curved hips. "We are one."

"Wait a minute," he stammered, "L-last night? What do you mean? I ate your food, but last night?" As she continued to stare at him, he suddenly recalled the feel of her flesh against his, her lips on his neck, "I never~"

Narrow black brows arched. She smiled and her teeth were like polished black pearls. _"_ _ **Didn't you?"**_

A question at last.

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Several hours later Luke found himself in an unlikely position, bundled in furs and nestled protectively between the giant snow-white forequarters of a strange creature known as a Tauntaun and the enigmatic woman's muscular arms. Her warm breath blew evenly across his cheek and he could feel her heart beat as he was forced against her. The animal itself was vaguely familiar from his vision, but that one had been grey and not nearly as aesthetically pleasing as this snowy beast she commanded. Capable and sturdy, it bore the two of them without complaint or incident over the remote and forbidding landscape, past frozen canopies of ice and snow that concealed death-trap crevasses and fragile ice shelves. Periodically she would sing to it softly, running dark fingers through its coarse fur as if questioning its choice or offering an alternative route. Each time it would bleat in reply and hasten forward, as though pleasing her mattered as much ~if not more~ than life itself. As the light dimmed and cold wind began to howl like a maddened creature through the narrow valley they traversed, she elected to seek shelter in one of the many ice caves whittled into the crystallized tide. Explaining the beast could not survive the brutal cold of the Hothan nights, she drew it in after them and bedded it down near the door. In answer to Luke's query, she told him the planet's surface temperature never rose above freezing and often ~on night's such as this~ would plummet nearly one hundred degrees below zero, instantly petrifying anything that dared contest its absolute sovereignty.

Luke leaned against one of the cave's glossy walls and hugged the comforting animal skins about his narrow shoulders. He was comfortable ~thanks to the presence of the mysterious _Protector_ and his captor's continued beneficence~ but uneasy. Earlier in the day the woman had given him a device similar to the one she wore at her hip. She said it had been his. Roughly twenty-four to thirty centimeters in length, it was made of metal and felt strangely familiar in his hand. Several unmarked switches dotted its side and a mirrorlike concave metal disk graced one end. When activated, invisible power cells emitted a cold beam of blue-white light that was nearly blinding. He had almost dropped it when first it had sprung to life with the raging sibilation of a hive of enraged insects. It terrified _**and**_ enthralled him. He had tried to throw it away, but the woman had forbidden it. Glancing at her now where she sat deep in meditation near a small fire conjured from her pocketed crystal, he sighed. He didn't know if he was a prisoner or a pet... He only knew he no longer had any desire to leave her. Like the pulsating blade, she was both compelling and frightening at one and the same time.

As though sensing his thoughts, she rose and stretched, her supple flesh undulating in the firelight. She crossed to where he rested and then knelt to fix him with her intense eyes. Unexpectedly she said, "You have not asked my name."

"I..." He hesitated, uncertain. Somehow it had seemed...inappropriate? "Nor you mine," he countered quickly.

"And yet I know it," she whispered, "as you _**already**_ know mine."

He began to protest, puzzled, but fell silent as a sound, harsh and yet as lovely as the world that had begat her, tickled the edge of his tongue. He grinned and then volunteered, "Khr'shaia?"

Fire lit her eyes. "Yes. I thought so. And you are Luke." She leaned forward and planted a possessive kiss on his forehead, "Now you should sleep."

He blinked and protested, "But I just... You..." And yet, even as he spoke, his eyelids were already beginning to close. "I don't-"

"Hush. It is time," she insisted, laying a cool hand upon the lingering kiss, "sleep. Remember who you are."

"But I'm not..." Dark blond bangs fell, veiling his eyes, "No...I won't... I _**don't...**_ "

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He dreamed.

A dark shape towered above him breathing menace, the scarlet slash of light it wielded screaming like an open wound against a field of sterile grey. Stunned, Luke raised a hand to ward off the blow and watched helplessly as it flew off into the darkness, diminishing until it disappeared into the depths of Cloud City's central core. Tears stung his battered cheeks as he heard his own agonized cry. Still the ominous figure advanced, compelling him to retreat to an insecure purchase scarcely wide enough for a child.

Words. There were words. Words so vile they wounded his very soul. And lies. Lies he could not _**~or would not~**_ recall. He remembered the suicidal plunge. Remembered hanging upside-down believing he would die. And once again he felt the seductive call of the dark side. The memory in his bones of another's life, another man's choices...

If he was not very careful ~or extremely fortunate~ the face behind the black visor would be his own. He awoke with a start to find Khr'shaia watching him, her obsidian eyes narrowed and her dark lips pursed. She searched his fevered eyes and then blew out a slow breath.

"You _**are**_ the one."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They traveled all of the next day and well into the night. There was no moon nor was one necessary. An electrical storm the likes of which Luke had never seen filled the upper atmosphere, illuminating the black night as though as second sun had mounted high above the frozen wastes. Like a ghostly veil it blanketed the sky with color, emerald-green near the darkly silhouetted hills, blood-red above where the stars danced. The snow at their feet glowed a ghostly amber where the two met and mixed, lighting the path they traveled. Khr'shaia called it the _Ihr'el_ __or __ _the Breath of the Inspirer._ She held her hand up and when he stilled his own harsh breathing, he could hear the air crackle and hiss like drops of water on glowing embers.

Once again the Tauntaun carried them through a fantastic landscape peopled by tiny icebergs which had melted and frozen into shapes graceful as glass sculptures. The wind was ferocious. It whistled past the glacial figures, keening as though for the lost. Just short of a rise, the silvery woman reigned in the beast. It panted and shifted its webbed feet as though uneasy. Luke understood its restiveness. He could feel it too. Beyond the ghostly white dune that rose before them, blocking their view, something waited.

Something _**powerful**_.

Luke gasped and turned to face the dark-skinned beauty who rode silently behind him. He spoke softly, as though he feared to break the silence, "What is it? What's down there?"

The amber curtain in the sky painted her silver-grey skin a sickly green. She swallowed hard and answered, "My home. Ihr Kahrn't. The dwelling place of the _Eye of the Inspirer."_


	3. Chapter 3

III

Luke had wanted to question her, but she restrained him, placing a finger to his lips. In continued silence they topped the rise and to his surprise, laid out before them was a simple village of modest proportions, nestled snuggly against the dark blue underbelly of a frozen wave. He had time only to note that each of the small huts was roughly cylindrical and of a uniform size before she heeled the animal and sent it flying off the trail into the darkness of the shadow of a towering snow dune. White powder flew and blinded him and he coughed once before he heard her voice in his head commanding silence. The inherent threat was unnecessary. He was too surprised to speak. Moments later, cloaked and hooded figures mounted on dark grey Tauntauns passed within bow-shot of them. He remained motionless until the light from their torches had faded and then pivoted to challenge her. "I thought this was your _**home**_."

Her eyes were flint. Her mouth a knife's edge. "You are right. It _**was**_."

Without another word, she moved the beast back onto the path and began the long and treacherous descent.

Upon reaching the bottom she turned once again from the path and followed a circuitous route Luke was certain he couldn't have remembered even under hypnosis. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached their destination. Remaining stubbornly silent, Khr'shaia led him to the back of an unremarkable dwelling and then left him, shaking and clutching the handle of an ancient blaster, to guard its rear door. His head was spinning, but he felt curiously exhilarated.

"Wait'll I tell Biggs what he missed by going to the academy," he breathed to himself, fingering the device at his waist the dark woman had forbidden him to use. "He'll never-"

"Luke."

Her even tones startled him and he jumped. She was standing right beside him and he hadn't even heard her approach. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she beckoned him to follow. In her eyes he saw no reproach…only anticipation.

"Khr'shaia, I- "

"There is no time. Come with me."

He followed her through the opened doorway and into the modest home. The only light they had came from her ignited lightsaber, and it glowed a deep magenta, casting weird shadows on the unadorned walls that seemed to clutch and grasp at him as he passed. There was little furniture. A small table fronted by a single bench huddled near an unkempt hearth, next to a raised platform that held stacked furs for bedding, and a crude altar, which bore signs of recent attendance, filled the west wall. Cakes and other offerings were piled carefully at its base, and upon its rough surface, Luke noted, a bronze vessel of some sort rested, filled with a dozen or so shimmering stones. Upon closer examination, he realized the crystals were similar to the one his benefactress had employed to create their fire, only these were blue instead of amber. As Khr'shaia moved deeper into the room he reached for one, only to be startled when it shifted and opened translucent wings that glistened in the waning light of the saber.

"Hey!" he shouted, jumping back.

The dark beauty returned to take his hand. "Khr'schlcts. The sapphire sisters are sacred. Do not handle one unless you have been instructed as to its use. The effect of their bite ~while not deadly~ is something less than pleasant. Now come."

Luke's eyes narrowed as the lightsaber's eerie luminescence shot through the insect's body like liquid fire. Without warning, it took to the air and headed straight for him. He ducked, but before he could cry out, Khr'shaia extinguished her weapon and drew him toward her, placing her hand over his mouth. Together they moved into the darkest corner of the small room. His heart pounding, he eyed the retreating insect as a pair of tall figures passed by the door. When the sound of their footsteps had diminished and darkness returned, he asked hesitantly, "Are you a fugitive? Have you committed some crime?"

He heard her draw a breath and hold it. Finally she said, "All is not what it seems. Be patient. Soon we will _**both**_ have the answers we seek."

Through darkness absolute he followed her until they were forced to stop. Seemingly frustrated, she placed her hands upon the solid wall and began to moan. Strange, ululating sounds issued from the back of her throat, and her body began to sway. Luke looked away, wishing to make certain the insect had not followed him, and when he turned back, she was gone.

His mouth fell open as he reached out and grasped thin air. Like a shadow at noon, she had vanished without a trace. He shifted his position and ran his hands along the man-made surface searching for a secret door. Unexpectedly, a slender arm shot through the wall like quicksilver to grasp his hand. Astonished, he floundered as he found himself engulfed in a crystalline sea, unable to breathe. Seconds later he emerged unscathed on the other side and fell to his knees gasping for air. Before him, bathed in a phosphorescent glow, the woman Khr'shaia knelt, her slender hands extended toward a gigantic crystalline orb which filled the narrow passageway, pulsing and scintillating with life. A warm rush of air pervaded the enclosed area, stirring his blond hair and whispering words without meaning seeking to allay his fears. Instead, it only served to increase them.

As he watched, her dark hands contacted the shimmering sphere. White fire leapt from its surface to ripple like lightning across her silver skin, lifting her hair until it whipped about her, crackling. Oblivious of his presence, her full lips parted in silent prayer as a magenta aura surrounded her and she seemed to communicate with something deep within the sphere. Luke chose to remain near the hidden entrance, his own questions hushed. Sometime later she stirred and turned to face him, her eyes that were all iris and no pupil, enormous in a face drawn and pale. She hesitated and then said, " _The Eye_ wishes to speak to you."

He pointed to his chest and mouthed, "Me?"

Khr'shaia nodded as if in a dream and slowly offered him a trembling hand. He glanced at the glowing orb and backed away, shaking his head. She shuddered and closed her eyes. When they reopened, they were black holes which seemed to draw him in, subduing his will. Unable to resist, he walked to her side and took her hand.

"Place it thus," she said woodenly, indicating where he should position his left hand. He copied her servile position, falling to his knees and reluctantly making contact with the globe. Immediately the image of the being within grew clear as day, as though a veil had parted revealing a portal into another world. It was a child. Or at least, it _**looked**_ like a child. A sea of diaphanous hair billowed about its elfin face as though charged by the electricity that constantly circled the globe. It cast wavering shadows across a slender upturned nose and delicate rose-tinted lips. It's eyes were closed, but even so appeared enormous, encompassing fully half of its face. It was naked, but showed neither breasts nor any other overt signs of sexuality. Instead, its flawless form seemed to dissolve below the navel, becoming one with the mist that pervaded its spherical home. Unexpectedly, a tender voice caressed his mind.

Fascinated, he replied, "Yes?"

Its lips did not move. " _Brother."_ It said. _"Son….child. I must apologize for my sister-daughter Khr'shaia. What she has done ~while not strictly forbidden~ is nevertheless far from wise."_

Luke could feel the woman beside him flinch. "Why?" he asked, "What has she done?" His hand grew warm where it continued to press the sphere's animated surface, and with each passing moment, the child within grew ever more substantial. Downy hair flanked its pale cheeks. He could even see the tiny nerve jumping at the base of its throat. "Tell me."

Khr'shaia's black brows met and a petulant expression marred her beautiful face as he felt more than heard her address the floating creature. Its attention turned from him. Seconds later, she let out a little cry and dropped her chin as though chastised. Momentarily, Luke felt its touch return to him. _"Even more ill-advised would be the undoing of what she has begun. Let it be. One question only must you answer:_ _**Are you here of your own free will?"**_

Luke hesitated. He had been forced, even _**compelled**_ to come here, but had it really been _**against**_ his will? He remembered the thrill of hiding from those on the trail, and how exciting it had been to wield the blazing lightsaber -if only for a moment. He looked at the dark woman and felt no animosity. "I would have to say… _ **yes**_. Even if she would have permitted me to go…" He watched as her dark eyes sought him. "…I would have chosen to stay. She needs my help. People are dying."

" _Yes._ " The child nodded, causing the golden liquid which surrounded him to ebb and flow like water in a still pool disturbed by a hastily tossed stone. "And _**she**_ is the cause."

Luke once again experienced Khr'shaia's emotions as they struck the strange childlike being. Consternation. Outrage. Embarrassment. This time her voice as well entered him. " _Great Ash'hl, you_ _ **know**_ _that is not true!"_

Ash'hl waited several heartbeats before countering quietly, " _Just as_ _ **you**_ _know that it is."_ The silvery woman fell silent before her pale master. " _Shall I tell him or will you?"_

Khr'shaia sighed and lifted one quaking hand toward Luke's sweat-soaked forehead.

"Let me."

 **ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Luke was marginally aware of her hand contacting his flesh but his attention was focused on the floating child as its eyes began to open, revealing great wells of eternity that threatened to consume him. Black ice, they glistened and gleamed, swallowing all light until he was lost in a ebon void and images of another time replaced the dimly lit grotto his body occupied. A woman stood before him, encapsulated in blue-fire, her dark spirit enthralled and entranced as she sought to barter for her servant's soul.

"This was my teacher, Ahl'var. Long ago, she served the _Inspirer_. Now, she is a _Darkling,_ a creature which seeks all that the light shuns." With her words came crystal clear images of a woman of her own race, of similar height but reed thin and willowy. A cave-dweller, she shunned the city and its people, choosing instead to dwell apart with only a clan of great shaggy beasts for company. "Much power there was in her and long she used it wisely and well, instructing others and training adepts. Still, one day, she came to believe the power had betrayed her. One student outshone her… was stronger than she. More powerful. Instead of treasuring and nurturing such an apprentice, she became consumed by jealousy and through the dark arts sought to make her own power grow." Tears filled Khr'shaia's ebon eyes as she spoke. " _ **I**_ was that student. And I watched her descent into darkness and did _**nothing**_."

The child's eyes blinked once, slowly, making Luke's head spin.

Khr'shaia answered, "No, my words are not true…. I did _**something. I ran away."**_

Within the depths of Ash'hl's eyes, he watched her headlong flight. Days later she arrived at this place, the city of _the Eye_ , and was welcomed by its citizens, for she was strong with the life-force of the planet and able to heal the old and infirm. They gave her a name and a place to live, but soon a black shadow began to creep across the land killing the old, and infecting their young men and women. In time, all whose lives she had touched began to die. Deep in the night they were visited with terrors that left them writhing in agony. Those who had the courage to see them through their fevered dreams reported hearing strange noises, garbled words that once uttered, seemed to conjure dark spirits from the air. The darkness had killed them. Dark evil and the stranger who had come to town.

Khr'shaia's hand withdrew and her presence dwindled to nothing. Luke unwillingly broke his connection to the orb, blinking as he readjusted to the muted light of Ash'hl's environment. The beautiful silver-skinned woman lay upon the floor, sobbing. The creature shifted, gazing first at her and then meeting the young man's puzzled eyes. When it spoke this time, it's pale lips moved.

"So it was with H'lall." The vision was faint this time, like a watercolor wash, as though the images projected were filtered through another's mind. He saw his companion and a man of her race moving in tandem deep in the night, and felt their spirits soar and merge. Later as they slept, arms entwined, the raven-haired youth began to moan and then to thrash, finally shrieking and crying out wild words, only one of which Luke recognized.

He was calling out her name.

She shuddered where she lay on the floor as though she too had heard his death gasp anew. "It was my fault," she sobbed, " _ **is**_ my fault."

Luke's heart ached. He held the Ash'hl's disquieting gaze and asked, "What can I do?"

The child closed its great dark eyes and withdrew into the shimmering swirls of amber liquid.

"Khr'shaia knows."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Upon returning to the altar room, Luke endeavored to shake off the lingering strangeness of the encounter. He glanced at the shaken woman beside him. She was several shades paler than when they arrived. Evidently, the interview had not gone as she expected. He reached for her hand and sought to offer some comfort. "It's really not your fault, you know…. You weren't ready to face her. You couldn't possibly have won." He stopped, abruptly aware of a strange resonance which sounded throughout his weary frame. He shivered and then decided to ignore it. "Khr'shaia…."

Her flinty eyes flashed and he was surprised to find the spark brought anger. She wrested free and spat, "Fool!" Silver arms wrapped about quaking shoulders and she whispered, "I should have left you to freeze."

Shocked by her vehemence, he nevertheless refused to take offense. "You don't mean that. Earlier you said I was the one-"

She met his gaze and a cavalcade of emotions rolled through her black eyes. "Once I thought so, now…." Abruptly, she fell silent, turning toward the blackened space that opened onto the street. Then she cried, " _ **Luke!**_ "

He saw the light coming even as she spoke and started to duck for cover, but at that moment one of the Khr'schlcts stirred and chose to fly straight for him, firmly imbedding its claws in the loose fabric of his shirt.

" _ **Do not move!**_ " Khr'shaia cautioned, "If you value your sanity…." She took a step toward him but hesitated as torches blazed beyond the open doorway, illuminating her dark hair and leather cape. Fire shone in her eyes, but it was a fire without fuel, all too quickly consumed. Luke recognized her danger, but had thoughts only for his own. Inches from his heart the sapphire bug regarded him with multi-faceted eyes of jet-black.

Seconds later two thick-set women, dressed in leather breeks and fur, stepped into the room followed by a man swathed in white furs, bearing a bronze circlet on his head that was decorated with a stylized rendition of one of the sapphire Krh'schlcts. They leveled meter-long glass rods at Khr'shaia as the dark-skinned man deliberately turned his back on her. He was obviously some sort of holy man, and Luke was startled when his companion knelt before them without protest and subserviently held her wrists out as though waiting to be bound. Instead a brilliant green light arced from the end of the crystalline spear to touch her chest and she fell without a sound. Luke automatically stepped toward her and then winced and held his breath, waiting to feel the insect's bite. Unexpectedly, the tiny creature merely buzzed and with a sharp shift of its shining wings, flew away. Confused, he pressed his hand against his shirt and looked down, missing the green ray that flew from the end of one of the rods toward his chest.

He hit the floor before he knew what had hit him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Luke groaned and opened his eyes.

He was outside, beneath a crystal clear sky, and as a shudder ran the length of his lean frame, he realized he had never been so cold in all of his life. His hands and feet felt practically nonexistent and his head throbbed, nauseating him. He wanted to curl into a tight ball in order to preserve his body heat and to fight a wave of sickness that washed over him, but found he couldn't. Shivering again, he peered down the length of his chest and saw that his boots were missing. Strips of leather bound his stocking feet to two crystalline stakes which were hammered into the frozen tundra. Shifting his head, he noticed his hands were similarly bound, and as he fought off the first wave of panic, managed to place the tall muscular woman who wielded the mallet. She had been at Ash'hl's. He looked for Khr'shaia and found her several meters away, unconscious, stripped of her outer garments and tethered as well to the cold unyielding ground.

" _ **Hey!**_ , _"_ he shouted through chattering teeth. He was clothed only in a sleeveless grey shirt and leggings. "W-what do you think y-you're doing?"

The man in white came to stand over him and regarded him solemnly. Sadly, he shook his head, and then raising his hand to touch the jeweled ornament of his circlet, signaled the second woman. When she stood at his side, he pointed to Luke. Before the half-frozen young man could open his mouth to protest, she had splashed a ritual cup of ice-cold water over his quaking form. He began to shiver uncontrollably as the shaman shook a bone and bead rattle above him, muttering ceremonial words he couldn't understand. Ice crusted on his exposed skin even as the trio moved to perform a similar rite over his silent companion. Khr'shaia lay still as death, her haunting face turned so the light of their torches illuminated it's silvery flesh. Black blood stained her full lips and spilled from a deep gash on her forehead. Rage filled him as he realized she had been beaten.

Luke drew a deep breath and held it, seeking to control his anger. Expending what little energy he had cursing their captors was not only foolish ~it could prove fatal. He _**knew**_ he had to conserve his strength. However, as the shaman and his assistants completed their cruel mission and began to move away swiftly into the surrounding darkness, that resolve abruptly vanished and he began to thrash wildly, desperate to uproot one or all of the stakes.

A quarter of an hour later he lay exhausted, drifting toward unconsciousness as the heavenly aurora painted the white landscape fire-red. Early evening was upon them and the temperature had plunged well below freezing. He knew he was dying. His pulse had slowed and his tongue felt thick. Visions of those he had known and lost wafted before his eyes, calling him as he felt the first fingers of false fire creep along his flesh. Soon he must surrender, and then farm boy from arid Tatooine would die a death he could not have ~in his wildest dreams~ conceived.

So much for adventure and excitement….

Luke closed his eyes and wished with all of his being that there was _**some**_ way he could survive.

" _Perhaps there is…young Skywalker."_

Luke's eyelids fluttered open. Someone was talking. He slowly rotated his head to look at his companion, but Khr'shaia was still unconscious. All about the landscape seemed to be uninhabited. The only thing that appeared to be moving was a small blue blur shifting on the light grey fabric of his shirt. "M-must be crazy," he murmured, drifting toward eternal sleep, "or hallucinating…."

" _No. Merely prejudiced."_

He frowned and roused himself enough to seek the source of the voice and found that, even though the words seemed to echo _**within**_ his head, it originated somewhere near the center of his body. His eyes crossed and momentarily brought into focus one of the small lapis lazuli Khr'schlcts It rested on his shirt and seemed to stare at him in return, fixing him with a thousand ebon eyes. He drew in a deep breath and watched it rise and fall with his chest. It was really there.

 _ **But was it talking to him?**_

He fought off sleep for a moment more and, feeling foolish, asked through chattering teeth, "Excuse m-me? D-Did you say s-something?"

The Khr'schlct beat its sheer wings but said nothing more. Luke opened his mouth to speak again, but instead sucked in frigid air as another of the bugs descended to his chest…and another… _ **and another.**_ Before he knew it, literally hundreds of the shining beings covered his cold form, transferring a little of their body-heat to him. Soon he found it possible to both stay awake and speak without his teeth banging together. Chagrined, he whispered, "Thank you."

The voice resounded within his head. Intensified. Stronger. _"It is only a temporary measure, one that will allow you time to think. We can warm you this way for only a few minutes…your companion as well. If you do not do something, you both will die."_

Luke narrowed his eyes and searched for the first creature, the one he was almost certain had approached him in the village. "But what can I do? I'm trussed like a captive Krayt. I have no power-"

" _But you do!"_ The voice was firm, unyielding. _"You have great power. Search your heart, Luke. It will remember what your head denies."_ Other voices joined the first, chanting in chorus. _"Remember, Luke,_ _ **remember who you are!**_ _"_

Luke lay his head back on the cold packed snow and closed his eyes in defeat. "I know who I am. I'm the nephew of a moisture farmer on a backwater world called Tatooine. I wanted to go to the academy…to be a pilot. I guess I'll never go now~

" _ **No!**_ _"_ Anger flashed through the creatures' tenuous hold on his skin. _"You are much more."_ He looked up to see one of the blue bugs hovering near his chin. _"I will show you."_

Living crystal, it alighted near his left eye and gently scraped the skin of his cheek near one of the scars Khr'shaia had noticed. At once sight and sound exploded in his head. He saw Obi-Wan Kenobi rescuing him in the desert of Tatooine. Watched as the old man placed his father's lightsaber in his hand. Heard him explaining that one day he too would learn the ways of the Force. He remembered Han and Leia, Chewie and all of the rest of his friends who struggled valiantly against the iron fist of Palpatine's greed, and once again relived his own part in the drama. He flew through the **Death Star's** narrow chasm and launched the torpedoes that impacted deep within it, causing it to self-destruct. Later, there had been a ceremony and a princess…. And then he saw Yoda and winced as guilt stabbed him. He had given his word and then broken it, interrupting his training to go face Vader….

He remembered Vader….

And awoke with a scream. The Khr'schlct quivered and shook a drop of bright red blood from its front leg. _"It is enough."_ Bright black eyes shone as words rang in his head. _"Now do you remember who you are,_ _ **Jedi**_ _?"_

Tears welled in his eyes. He remembered Ben, Yoda, the Force, even Vader, but still there was something more. Something he hadn't the courage to face. Swallowing his pride, he lied boldly, "Yes, I remember."

The Khr'schlct paused and then asked, _"Can you call your weapon? It is nearby."_

The thought of the lightsaber cheered him. He imagined it in his hand and moments later felt its solid hilt slip between his frigid fingers. "Yes."

" _Good,"_ the insect proclaimed as one by one its fellows began to hum and rise into the air. Moments later they hung en masse over him like a living blanket.

" _Free yourself."_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Several cold minutes passed before he was able to do so. His mind was numb, but once he had control of the saber, it sliced cleanly enough through the rawhide that bound his wrists and feet. Moments later he wielded it carefully, performing a similar operation on the unconscious ice-woman. Once freed, he gathered her cold form against his, seeking to warm it. He regretted he had no extra clothing to gallantly wrap about her, but regretted even more the loss of her mysterious 'Protector'. Obviously, it guarded them no longer. Perhaps she had to be conscious to employ it. Shivering violently, he sought out the brilliant insect that hovered near the head of its hive.

"N-Now w-what?"

The leader separated from the other drones to hang before him, a blue diamond glittering amidst a canopy of living stars. " _Are you prepared to die?"_

Luke frowned. He had only just begun to believe they might live and now the creature wanted to know if he was prepared for death? He shivered again as what little hope he had mustered drained away in defeat. "If I must. B-But why….?"

" _It is the only way you can live."_

The lightsaber murmured in the snow beside him. Above, the newly risen moon shone hard and cold. He brushed a lock of ebon hair away from the gash on the Khr'shaia's face and sighed as exhaustion tickled the edge of his perceptions. "I'm…I'm sorry. I don't understand."

The creature alighted on the woman's gun-metal grey shoulder and projected gently, _"When first we touched you, did you feel the cold?"_

Luke remembered the shared warmth. "No," he said,

" _Close proximity to the fire that flows in our veins will temporarily elevate your body's temperature, but our venom can empower you so that you will be able to carry your companion to shelter."_ The creature paused, and for the first time Luke realized he was speaking to a group intelligence. _"It may also bring death -or worse- a living death from which there can be no escape."_

Luke passed a cold hand over his eyes and started to reply, but the Khr'schlct stopped him. _"Do not speak, unless it be to give your consent. Time is short. Our purpose ~as given to us by the Inspire~ is to bring visions to his people. We are used by the shamans to Dream-tread. If they are worthy, it is of benefit. If they are not, they do not return from the land of shadows. It claims them. Though they do not die, death it is still._ _ **You**_ _are strong in the Inspirer, still…"_

The names were different, but suddenly Luke understood the Force and _the Inspirer_ were one. Khr'shaia was a fellow Jedi, the weapon she carried a variation of the lightsaber. She had brought him here for reasons as yet unclear, but had been thwarted in her purpose by his lack of memory. He now recalled Hoth, though he was sure he had left it behind long before. Still, it mattered little. He was here now and he couldn't turn his back on her, no matter how underhanded her methods.

"What d-do I have to do?"

The sapphire bugs circled his blond head. _"You understand the risk?"_ There was real fear in its tone.

"If I refuse to help, then I freeze and die for nothing. If I agree, I may still die, but at least I tried."

Black eyes fixed his and he felt the creature's approval. Suddenly, the other Khr'schlcts moved to form a loose circle about him, humming softly as their spokesman descended to his benumbed foot. " _I will puncture the skin here, farthest from your heart. That way you may have enough time to reach the cavern beyond the ice shelf"_ ~as it spoke a vision formed in Luke's mind and he _**knew**_ he could find the cave~ _"before the madness begins. Do not hesitate or all will be lost."_

The young Jedi squared his shaking shoulders and assured the intelligent insect, "I won't. Now, when will you-"

Before the words could clear his trembling lips, he felt a sharp prick near his ankle bone. Curiously, no visions exploded, no brilliant lights flashed through his head. Instead a steady warmth coursed through his veins like the aftermath of a slug of Corellian ale, rousing his sluggish heart. Renewed strength and vigor poured through him and he easily lifted the still form of his companion. Tossing her across his shoulders, Luke struck out for the cavern ,following the mental map the kindly Khr'schlct had drawn him.

He turned back once to thank the shimmering creature and its brothers, but they had already taken to the cold night air, winging their way back toward the _Eye of the Inspirer_ and the rough stone altar they called home.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Somehow, hours later, they made it to the cave. Luke's head was throbbing and his senses reeling as he lay the recently awakened Khr'shaia on the cold stone floor. He knelt beside her, gasping for breath, feeling fire flicker at the edge of his senses. The small cave was adequately lit by a natural skylight that opened to the risen moon, but he could only see the dark shadows that inhabited its heart…tenebrous shadows that seemed to grow ever more substantial as they closed about him whispering his name.

" _Luke,_ __ _Luke…come with me…. It is your~"_

"Luke? Luke, can you hear me?"

He raised his forehead from the cooling stones and felt sweat slide from the darkened ends of his blond hair down his neck. A woman was speaking. He looked at her. She had dark hair… Shouldn't it have been in braids…?

"Leia?"

"No," the woman answered, her voice tight with concern. Or was it fear? "It is Khr'shaia. Luke, why ever did you bring me _**here**_?"

He lifted his head to meet her gaze, trying valiantly to ignore the bright flames that almost blinded him. Flames that sprang from the Krh'schlcts venom. "You," he stopped to correct himself, " _ **we**_ were freezing. It's warm here. Now, at least, _ **you**_ won't die." He closed his eyes but the fire would not be quenched.

The woman wasn't listening. She shut her eyes and then a moment later opened them wide. Rising, she began to pace about the minimal space like a caged Womprat. "There are things worse than death, Luke, much worse. If _**she**_ should come…."

He shuddered as exquisite pain wracked his aching form. The dark shadows watched, patiently, expectantly. If he surrendered and fell unconscious, they would have him. To delay the inevitable, he forced himself to speak, asking, "She? Who is _**she**_?"

"Ahl'var, my teacher. Oh, Luke, you don't know…" She paused as she looked at him for the first time, _**really looked**_ , and saw how ill he was. His face was flushed and a fine red rash covered the exposed areas of his pale skin. Remorseful, she fell to her knees beside him and gently laid her hand on his arm. Seconds later she pulled away as though singed. " _By_ _the Inspirer_ , Luke, what is wrong?"

He opened his mouth to speak but a spasm rocked his thin frame and he fell back to the cave floor with a short groan. She ran her hands efficiently along his body, seeking the source of this sudden sickness, and gasped when she saw the tell-tale bite branded into his tender swollen flesh. Like silver-fish, her hands flew to her mouth and she pulled back, horrified. At first she could find no words, but then she managed to choke out, "L-Luke, why?" When he failed to respond, she shook him and shouted, as tears streamed from her pitch-black eyes, " _ **Luke, you're going to die!"**_

Blue eyes opened, but his vision looked far beyond her, and in them she saw ~if not surrender~ than acquiescence at the least. "It was my choice," he said softly, shuddering again as a strong wave of heat swept over him. "Whatever it was you brought me here for, I couldn't just let you die before… we… had…. Before _**I**_ had…." He coughed spasmodically and pitched to the side. Then his form went rigid. Moments later he lay motionless, free at least of the physical pain his decision had engendered.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then a voice cool as the evening air spoke from the cavern's entrance. "So _**this**_ is your champion?" it asked.

Khr'shaia slowly raised her head and met the contemptuous stare. Luke's nightmare could be no worse than her own. She stood and greeted the one who had betrayed her.

"Mother."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Luke recognized the landscape of his dreams.

He was once again in the lightless cave, the one he had first awakened in. He could see the serrated maw of stalactites and stalagmites, and recognized the nebulous shadow that flitted from one dark recess to another. He felt for the lightsaber at his waist but his hand came away empty. Startled, he looked down only to find he was straddling his own insentient form and the solid, tangible support of his Jedi weapon was firmly attached to the belt at its waist. Objectively, he studied the inanimate shell as though it belonged to another. Its pale skin was chalky and peppered with a nettled rash. The once bright blond hair was matted and dull, and lay in thick brown clumps against a forehead covered by a fine sheen of perspiration.

It looked like a corpse.

Fascinated, he bent to touch the scarred face, but stopped in mid-gesture, inexorably drawn by the drama unfolding not two meters away from him. Two women, alike enough to be sisters if not twins, faced each other, radiating power. The one he knew to be Khr'shaia. The other…. Instinctively he knew she was much the same, but infinitely older and _**far**_ more dangerous. She stood illumined by a single beam of moonlight that filtered through the skylight overhead, her silvered hair glinting in the ghostly light. Her face was fine boned and regal, her manner suggestive of breeding and easy power. A diaphanous gown floated on a phantom breeze, scintillating so that she appeared to hover rather than to rest on the slate-grey floor.

His dark companion faced her, feet planted firmly, head held high. But he could see her soul was shaking. Momentarily she gathered herself to speak, wine-red lips parting to utter the word -not as an endearment, but merely in recognition of an unavoidable blood-tie, "Mother."

Before Luke could react to that revelation, the other woman moved, soft fabric whispering as she drew closer. He shivered as he watched the army of black shapes that accompanied her. " Little one," she whispered, her own dark lips barely moving, "what it is brings you back to me?"

The younger woman hesitated and then turned to look longingly at the still form of the human who had foolishly been her hope. The one she had planned to use. The one she had hoped would be strong enough to defeat this monster who had given her life. She sighed and then returned disconsolate eyes to the other woman's proud face. "You have named it. You did so, years ago, before ever I left this place."

The woman drew closer so her breath stirred the fine hairs on Khr'shaia's forehead. Her black eyes shone like polished onyx. "It is your _**destiny…**_ "

Luke stepped away from the solid form that was his anchor, feeling the slender chord that stretched between them grow narrow and taut. He reached out to touch her and his hand passed straight through the ebon swells of her hair and her broad shoulders, startling him. Unnerved, he examined his hands and then glanced up toward the ominous figure that confronted his companion only to find her watching him.

Deep-blue flames kindled in the fathomless depths of her gaze and she raised her head until she looked straight into his eyes. When she had his attention, she repeated her prophecy. "It is _**your**_ destiny."

His phantom mouth fell open and he screamed, " _ **No!**_ ", but she only laughed, and the sound of her laughter battered him like the Force-driven machinery Vader had tossed at him on Bespin. It struck him and twisted him around until he was spiraling out of control, and as it did images of his former life flashed past as though he were traveling at light-speed. Dark and light, past and future broke apart and coalesced until all of the threads of his life were held in one black -gloved hand that was clenched and raised above him as he huddled, miserable, clinging frantically to the fragile gantry that bisected the open center of the cloud city of Bespin. He huddled there, terrified, listening to words he could not believe, could not accept, and yet had known ~ _ **had always known~**_ were true.

" _I_ _ **am**_ _your father. Join me and together we can end this bloody conflict. You can defeat the Emperor…he has_ _ **foreseen**_ it."

And this time, broken, envenomed, defeated, his answer was _**yes.**_ He reached out and clasped the proffered hand and stared into the jaded eyes behind the mask. They were his own. He had not failed the test on murky Dagobah…. Yoda had wished him to remain blind to his inheritance. Ben had hidden it from him. It had all been lies. He had been lied to. Used. Betrayed.

 _ **Manipulated.**_

Anger grew in him, anger such as he had never known, overwhelming any remembrance of the love he had had for the old hermit who had discovered him or the other one who had begun his training. They had simply wanted to further their own ends with no thought of his calling, his _**destiny**_. The hand that gripped his now was flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, and that kinship awakened in him a realm of possibilities. The future opened before him, a future of shared vision in which he and Vader ruled justly together as father and son, meting out justice; rewarding those who obeyed and destroying any who challenged the new order of the galaxy.

He felt the seductive power of the dark side pour through the link and shifted to add the strength of his other hand to the union. But that hand was gone. Instead a charred stump stood in its place, and as he stared at the truncated limb, he lost his balance and teetered on the edge of the metal catwalk. Vader stared at him, seemingly expressionless behind the protection of his black mask. Fury filled him. This man, this _**creature**_ , had taken it from him and taken as well his fragile hold on sanity. Suddenly all of the raw power that was his within the Force blasted out in rage and despair, and the formidable form of the last Dark Lord of the Sith shriveled until it was nothing more than an empty shell, a dry husk that lay smoking on the silver-grey grating. Luke stood, his arms flung wide and opened himself to the vast army of black shadows that bore witness to the event and waited for them to claim him as one of their own. Sweetly seductive, they promised power if he would only embrace them of his own free will. Thus empowered, he would be able to destroy the Emperor and force the galaxy accept his rule. Palpatine had foreseen it. Vader had desired it. Luke stared at the black shadows that danced about him and felt the intensity of their combined glee raise the hair on his head, and then he noticed -within the dark teeming ranks- one small shining face. The face of a young woman, upturned, streaked with tears.

"It is my destiny," she whispered, bowing to the foreboding shape that towered over her, "blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh. I am yours."

And suddenly from somewhere deep inside a quiet voice whispered forgotten words, stirring a powerful force within the young man's soul and he gasped, as though tasting fresh air after hours submerged. He shook his head and opened his eyes, and saw that the black shadows which surrounded him were only that, pale and powerless phantoms, raging for their own lack of conscience, seeking to drown the light of one more soul. Without warning, he laughed, and the sound of that laughter drove the demons away. They scattered as he awakened, and fell back into the shadows until nothing remained but his astral self and the silver-grey woman. She met his eyes and he smiled, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. Self-conscious, he spoke only one word, "Why?"

Khr'shaia approached him. He could see her clearly now and she was older, her hair streaked with silver and her eyes weary and world-wise. She was truly the mirror-image of the dark woman she had knelt before. Ahl'var, her teacher, had vanished with the other demons she had conjured. She faced him and laid a cool hand alongside his cheek. "Now do you understand?"

He touched her hand with his own and was amazed he could feel it. He glanced to the side and saw that his physical form lay precisely where it had been before.

"It is true, you dream still. I had not meant it to be this way. You are Dream-treading." She paused and held his blue eyes with her dark ones, "It may _**yet**_ prove fatal."

Luke shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "No, I don't think so. I don't think my ' _ **destiny'**_ is to die here."

She pulled her hand away and then stepped back, shaking her dark locks. Her eyes were narrowed and about their edges, fine willowy lines danced. "Still, if you die here," she indicated the cave where his prone form lay, "you will die. This _**is**_ real."

He nodded his understanding and then shifted to see her better. She was beautiful, but sad. "You haven't answered my question. Why did you do this?"

Khr'shaia drew a breath and then released it, meeting his bright gaze. "Many years ago ~thousands of your years~ what you have witnessed here actually took place. My mother was a powerful Jevda ~ _or Jedi_ ~ as you say. I _**was**_ her apprentice, but as I grew more powerful she became filled with jealousy and rage. Instead of embracing me as her successor, she drew closer to the dark side, gathering more and more power until I became so frightened, I ran away." She hugged herself and crossed to stare at Luke's pale figure, seeing another. "I fled to the town and chose to live there, knowing she would finally follow and finding me, destroy me. But that was not her plan. Nothing so simple would satisfy her dark wrath. Instead she sent her evil emissaries and told them to twist with fear the lives of any I had touched. To destroy any who had the smallest trace of _the Inspirer's_ touch…."

Luke whispered, "Any who might have been able to wield the Force as a weapon against her… She left you alone."

"Yes. She did not want me destroyed, but cowed, defeated, without hope or companions. She tortured and killed the man I loved before my very eyes, finally driving me from my adopted home and back to her." Khr'shaia met his eyes and breathed softly, "I succumbed long ago."

"So you never really needed my help?"

She smiled ruefully. "No, _**you**_ needed mine. Do you not remember this cave?"

Luke glanced about and shrugged, but even as he did, it suddenly fell into place. "This is the cave on Hoth! The one where the ice creature dragged me."

"Yes." She gestured to the moon-washed walls and the jagged ceiling overhead. "That and my tomb."

"Your what?" Luke started. "What do you mean?"

"This is where she taught me. This was my home. This is where my corporeal form is buried." Her dark eyes misted and she fell silent.

"But how did it become your tomb?"

"I believed her lies." She faced him again and spoke directly, "I believed this to be my destiny, that I would become an agent of evil, that I must surrender to the dark as she did… _ **because she did.**_ Finally one day I challenged her and with that dark power which was my inheritance… _ **destroyed**_ her."

Luke winced. He knew what was coming.

"Even as she died, so did I. And when ~after decades of evil~ my physical form died as well, I took the coward's way. I could not embrace the black hand that held me fast and so I fled again. I placed my consciousness within these walls, within the very heart of this cave-"

"And so when the creature brought me here-"

"I became aware of you. And after you left, your thoughts lingered, your _**goodness**_ …. I had not felt such strength in eons and I could not forget you…." She fell silent as though embarrassed. "I had been alone a very long time. And then, when I sensed you were close to death and faced with the very same choice that _**damned**_ me~"

"You brought me here." He could not imagine the power that would have taken, more than Obi Wan had possessed, more than Yoda. Perhaps a power as strong as the Emperor himself. He started to question her, but found that suddenly he could no longer put words together. Without warning, he swayed and the world he inhabited became cloudy, as though he looked at it from the bottom of a murky pond. Khr'shaia moved to his side to steady him. He had realized she too must have traveled here in spirit form, else, they could not have touched.

She replied. "I brought you here in one sense, to the land you walked in that form." She pointed to his pale body where it lay bathed in moonlight.. " **Your** corporeal self sleeps still, far away. Only that which belongs to _the Inspirer_ treads this dream world. You must return now, be reunited soon, or it will be too late." She pinched his spirit flesh and held his eyes, her own suddenly intense. "But now, I must ask you once again, _**do you understand?"**_

He nodded and murmured weakly, "Yes. Vader's sins are his own. It is not my ' _ **destiny**_ ' that matters, but the choices _**I**_ make."

She smiled brightly, her weary face lit by a glow from deep within. "Yes. Yes. That is it. Then _**my**_ choice, though in error, will not have been in vain. You will not walk the path I walk. You light will not be extinguished as was mine."

Luke stumbled back and she guided him to where his still form lay waiting. He blinked back tears and held onto her as she tried to move away. "Is there nothing …nothing I can do for you?"

She kissed him lightly and stepped away. "My burden is eased. That is enough. Now go."

With that she was gone and he felt his eyes growing heavy as pain began to seep into his consciousness, burning along the edges of his phantom limbs. Seconds later he opened his eyes and found he was lying on the cave floor, cold and stiff. Bracing himself with his one good hand, he sat up only to find that the dark cave on Hoth had been replaced by the homely chamber of the _Eye of the Inspirer_. The small childlike creature floated still within its clear bubble, the waves of the Force gently stirring its snow-white hair. Luke stood and instantly recognized that even though the land he walked was that of the spirits, still this chamber, this being, this meeting were as real as anything he had ever known.

 _The Eye_ stirred and looked at him through closed eyes. " _You are free to go, Luke Skywalker."_

Luke crossed to the globe and lay his hands upon its warm living surface. "It was you all along, wasn't it?", he asked, feeling the power that radiated from the tiny creature within. "You brought me here. Khr'shaia wasn't powerful enough, not even the Palpatine could have…. _**Who are you?"**_

The bright being's eyes opened and Luke had to turn away, so intense was the light that shone from them. " _I_ _ **am**_ _the Force. I am life and energy. I am all that binds and surrounds you, all that you are. And you are mine, Luke Skywalker. Not Vader's, not the Emperor's, not your own._

" _ **You are mine."**_

Luke forced himself to look into the face of the light, and when he did, he found it was neither harsh nor terrifying, but warm and welcoming. Its healing energies strengthened him and bore him up and away from the dark pit Vader's words had plunged him into.

" _You are the son of Anakin Skywalker, one of my finest knights._ _**That**_ _is your heritage._ _**Therein**_ __ _lies your destiny."_

The young man felt the words surround him and invade him, cleansing his soul. He drew a deep breath and then smiled, feeling much lighter and stronger. He nodded, "Yes. _**My**_ destiny."

" _Now, child, you must return. Your body weakens and it will not last long without your mind to bind the one to the other. Go back. Heed what you have learned…."_

Luke felt the presence of _the Eye_ pull away. It repelled him, but as he fell into the darkness that lay without the dream universe, he managed to ask, "But what of Khr'shaia? What will become of her?"

The voice receded but he heard its answer clear enough. " _Her penance has been paid. She is with me."_

The woman's husky voice spoke softly and her phantom hand brushed his cheek one last time.

"And with you."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Leia sighed and laid her hand upon Luke's still chest. The readings had remained the same for days, nearly flat-lined. All that kept the young Jedi alive was the machine to which his battered form was attached. Earlier that morning the medical droid, Two-OneBee, had suggested the only 'humane' thing to do was to _**disconnect**_ him -to let him go. Leia smiled ruefully as she recalled his mechanical sadness. The droid understood all too well the finality of his suggestion ~perhaps only as an artificial life-form could. Disconnection. Death. It was all the same. There was no coming back.

Threepio and Artoo-Detoo had listened to the prognosis and since that time had kept a silent watch, offering their mute support as she prepared to end the life of one of the two men who meant the most to her in all of the known galaxies. The other one, with his dark hair and smiling eyes, was lost, stolen from before her very eyes, but she had still had hope she would be able to find and rescue him. This one…. Well, the truth was before her. She couldn't pretend any longer, and yet, to admit the loss of this one would be like opening a wound in her soul that would never heal.

Somehow she knew if _**he**_ died, a part of her would die as well.

"Princess Leia, if I might make a suggestion," Threepio, the golden protocol droid suggested from somewhere near her elbow, "Artoo and I can perform this task. You need not~"

" _ **No!**_ " she shouted, unexpectedly loud, then repeated more softly, "No. If it is to be done, it will be by my hand." She gathered her courage and reached for the red switch on the life-sustain unit, toggling it with a sigh, "Still, somehow, I never thought Luke would go like~"

A shrill whistle sounded from Threepio's barrel-like companion and Leia's hand jerked back , flipping the switch the other way. Her hand went to her chest and she took a deep calming breath. "Artoo, whatever do you mean doing that right now? I…"

" _ **Mistress!**_ " Threepio was shouting as well, " _ **Mistress Leia!"**_

Leia pivoted and saw the lines on the monitor suddenly soar like an X-Wing in flight. Luke's motionless chest heaved once and then fell still again.

"What?" She held her breath, not daring to hope, but as she watched his chest rose once again. Soon, his breathing was regular; his vital signs stabilized somewhere below normal. Pale eyelids fluttered and even paler lips parted to emit a low moan.

Grabbing his remaining hand she drew it close to her face. "Luke", she whispered fervently, "Luke, can you hear me?"

Blue eyes opened and slowly focused on her. A moment later he smiled weakly.

"Luke," she repeated, tears welling in her dark brown eyes, "I thought we had lost you."

His head shifted and he turned to stare past her, sensing the continuing presence of the spirit of the silver-grey woman who had saved him.

He whispered. "Never again."


End file.
